


Confessions And Consequences

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-08
Updated: 2008-03-08
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Trip’s big secret gets him into trouble. Sequel to Collateral Damage. Episode tag, 4.21 "Terra Prime."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Beta: As always, the lovely SueC.  
  
A/N: You really wonâ€™t understand this unless youâ€™ve a) watched Season 4 and b) read the earlier instalments of the series, archived here.  


* * *

I went to see Tâ€™Pol, as Malcolm had suggested, because as much as I wanted to stay and let him comfort me, I knew it was the right thing to do. Tâ€™Pol and I had shared something â€¦ uniquely painful, and I guessed I was the only person on board who could really understand what she was going through.

I thought Iâ€™d recovered a little during the short walk from Malcolmâ€™s room to hers, but as soon as the door to her quarters opened I felt fresh tears start to burn behind my eyes. She was dressed in her Vulcan robes. I hadnâ€™t seen her wear them since sheâ€˜d joined Enterprise, and I guessed they must be symbolic, somehow. She sat on her bunk, hunched over, hugging her knees and clutching the little medallion sheâ€™d used as a makeshift toy for our daughter. Iâ€™d never seen her like this before.

â€œThe delegates at the conference,â€ I ventured. â€œTheyâ€™ve asked about the service for â€¦â€ I gulped down a sob, realising belatedly that this topic wouldnâ€™t provide the neutral opening Iâ€™d hoped for. â€œFor Elizabeth. They want to attend.â€

â€œShe was important,â€ Tâ€™Pol said, still staring at the floor.

â€œThereâ€™s some thing else.â€ My legs were a little unsteady as I moved across and sat down beside her, and I could feel little sobs rising in my throat. â€œI spoke with Phlox. It turns out there was a flaw in the technique that Paxtonâ€™s doctors used in the cloning process. Human DNA and Vulcan DNA â€¦ Phlox says thereâ€™s no medical reason why they canâ€™t combine.â€ She didnâ€™t react. â€œSo â€¦ if a Vulcan and a Human ever decided to have a child â€¦â€ I gasped as I felt my chest constrict, â€œâ€¦ itâ€™d probably be okay.â€ I glanced over at her, but her expression, as always, was unreadable. â€œThatâ€™s sort of comforting.â€

And then she gripped my hand, and we were hanging on the cusp of â€¦ something â€¦ a moment in time. And I could feel her: her anguish; her loss; her guilt. All the emotions she keeps so well hidden were churning around on the surface of her mind. And in my mind. And as much as weâ€™d both been through in the last few days, I knew we couldnâ€™t afford to wait any longer to talk about what was happening between us.

From the first minute we knew about the baby - about Elizabeth - Iâ€™d thought of her as my child. She was my daughter, even if she had been created by an act of violation. I was torn. Iâ€™d always wanted children - lots of them. I could picture myself playing in the garden of some big old house, with half a dozen little Tuckers climbing all over me. Elizabeth might have been half-Vulcan, but I still wanted her to grow up in a loving family, the way I had. I wanted her to have two parents who loved each other, who loved her, and a whole bunch of brothers and sisters. 

But I was in love with Malcolm, and that made things a lot more complicated. Not in the technical sense: I knew that gay couples had been having children of their own for decades, using the same binary cloning technique Paxton had screwed up so badly when heâ€™d created Elizabeth. And since the development of artificial wombs, like the ones Arik Soong had used to nurture his augment embryos, gay men didnâ€™t even need to find surrogate mothers for their children any longer. But I knew Malcolm was â€¦ not exactly against having children some day, but almost â€¦ scared of the idea. Iâ€™d imagined taking my time, building on the love and the trust we shared. Iâ€™d hoped that by the time weâ€˜d had our fill of exploring space and had settled down back on Earth, I might have persuaded him that a child of our own would be a wonderful thing.

But right now our relationship was so new and fragile: how could I ask him to suddenly become a stepfather to my half-Vulcan child? And what about Tâ€™Pol? Would she want to bring the baby up herself? Maybe even raise her on Vulcan? How could that work? I remembered Jon telling me once how difficult it had been for him after his parentsâ€™ divorce, splitting his time between his dad in San Francisco and his mom in up-state New York. How much harder would it be for a kid who had two families on two different planets?

But Elizabeth had died, and now I was sitting here in Tâ€™Polâ€™s room, holding her hand, feeling her emotions as well as my own. Our search for Elizabeth had brought us closer together than weâ€™d ever been, but not in the way Paxton had assumed. There was a friendship, a level of understanding that maybe no other Human and Vulcan had ever achieved, but there was nothing romantic about it. Not any more. I thought about my human lover, six cabins away. Malcolm wasnâ€™t a demonstrative man by any stretch of the imagination, but in the short time weâ€™d been together heâ€™d shown me a tenderness and affection I knew Tâ€™Pol could never have given me.

â€œIâ€™m with Malcolm now,â€ I blurted out. Maybe it was inappropriate, but I didnâ€™t want her to think I was her offering anything more tonight than comfort and compassion.

â€œI know.â€ Of course; we were bonded. There are no secrets in a Vulcan marriage. I realised the thought was hers, not mine.

Must make it helluva difficult to organise a surprise party, my mind supplied.

Hers was actually amused.

It was the strangest feeling, having someone elseâ€™s thoughts in my head. A strange new world indeed, but even as I experimented and explored the sensation, I realised it meant this telepathic bond thing was getting stronger, not fading away like Iâ€™d hoped.

â€œI can never be with Malcolm properly if Iâ€™m still bonded with you, can I?â€ I wondered aloud.

â€œIt would do irreparable damage to all three of us,â€ she said. â€œIt already has.â€

â€œIs there any way of â€¦ getting rid of it?â€

â€œI donâ€™t know. Possibly. I will â€¦ attempt to find out.â€

We both just sat there for a while, satisfied at least with the understanding weâ€™d reached, but I could feel there was more inside her coming to the surface. Whatever else weâ€™d been to each other, I still wanted to be her friend, so I stayed there, holding her hand and waiting.

â€œI owe you an apology,â€ she said at last. She must have read the question in my mind because she went on: â€œDuring the first year of our mission, I contracted a serious illness - a neurological disorder called Panaar Syndrome.â€

â€œI had no idea â€¦â€ I began, but she wasnâ€™t finished.

â€œOn our last mission to Vulcan, I was â€¦ cured of the disease. However during the mission to the Expanse, I began to self-medicate without the doctorâ€™s knowledge.â€

â€œSelf-medicate? With what?â€

â€œTrellium D.â€

~~~

I donâ€™t know how long I sat there, alone, in the aft lounge, trying to get my head around everything Tâ€™Pol had told me.

The story sheâ€™d told me was unbelievable: that during the mission to the Expanse sheâ€™d begun injecting trellium-D into her bloodstream. Getting high on emotion. That while she was in command of â€˜Enterpriseâ€™, while the captain was being held prisoner by the Xindi, sheâ€™d been â€¦ an addict. And the time weâ€™d â€¦ Iâ€™m reluctant to say â€˜made loveâ€™, although at the time thatâ€™s what Iâ€™d thought it was â€¦ that was all part of it.

Looking back, it explained a lot of things: her strangely emotional behaviour when we thought weâ€™d lost the captain; the way sheâ€™d seduced me. Iâ€™d always just figured it was down to her being around humans for so long, but this made much more sense. All the pieces suddenly fell into place.

I guess I shouldâ€™ve been angry with her for hiding things, for using me, and most of all for putting the ship, Earth, and all of us at risk. But to be honest, I didnâ€™t have the energy any more. My main concern was that sheâ€™d stopped using it. She proved that to me by getting Phlox to come to her quarters and show me the records of her treatment. I wondered how the capâ€™n would feel if he knew that Phlox had kept something like this from him, but the records showed that sheâ€™d beaten the addiction.

After that, weâ€™d talked some about being bonded; what it really meant and how we might find out about breaking it, but it was difficult to reach any kind of conclusion without more information. She promised to contact Vulcan as soon as she could.

But now I was exhausted, and all I wanted was to curl up in Malcolmâ€™s arms and sleep.

I shuffled wearily along the corridor and stopped outside his door, but as I lifted my hand to press the chime I hesitated, instead resting my palm against the cold metal. It was late, and I guessed Malcolm would probably be asleep by now. Heâ€™d been through so much these last few days - rescuing us and getting shot in the process - that I didnâ€™t want to wake him. Weâ€™d exchanged door codes years ago, even before weâ€™d become lovers, but Iâ€™d always been wary of entering his personal space without a specific invitation.

Reluctantly I left him to his rest and dragged myself the last few metres to my own quarters. I crawled into bed, expecting to fall asleep right away, but my mind was still in turmoil, going over and over everything that had happened since the Xindi attack and re-evaluating it in the light of what Iâ€™d learned.

I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind, the way Tâ€™Pol had taught me during our neuropressure sessions, but even that reminded me of her deception. I remembered the way Phlox had manipulated us into the neuropressure sessions in the first place, and a tiny, unkind part of me wondered if heâ€™d wanted something like that to happen from the beginning. Had we been just another of his experiments in Human - and Vulcan - behaviour?

I really wanted to talk everything over with Malcolm, but I couldnâ€™t predict how heâ€™d react to Tâ€™Polâ€™s revelation about using trellium-D. Besides, sheâ€™d told me that in confidence, and I didnâ€™t want to betray her trust.

Finally I gave up trying to sleep and switched the light back on. Maybe some music would help. I rolled out of bed and shuffled through my collection, selecting a soothing classical guitar piece that had been one of Lizzieâ€™s favourites.

Lizzie. It had all begun with Lizzie, I thought as I lay down again. What would she think of the mess her big brother had gotten himself into now? After sheâ€™d finished pointing and laughing at me, that is.

And somehow, thinking about that, I fell asleep with her name on my lips.

~~~

The next morning I was so tired that I slept through my alarm and barely dragged myself out of bed in time for my appointment in sickbay, so I missed my usual breakfast with Malcolm. Phlox said I could take my arm out of the sling, as long as I was careful, and cleared me for light duty, so I decided to swing by engineering to check on things before meeting Malcolm for lunch.

I spotted him, sitting alone at our usual table, as I entered the mess hall, and suddenly my heart felt lighter. Heâ€™d promised me we would face things together from now on, and Malcolm always kept his promises. I snagged myself a sandwich and a mug of coffee and made my way over to his table.

â€œHey,â€ I said, taking a seat. He didnâ€™t look up. I leaned forward. â€œUm â€¦ I wanted to say thanks for â€¦ yâ€™know. Last night.â€

He finally glanced up, his professional mask firmly in place. He was always like that in public, especially on duty. â€œGlad I could help. How are you feeling?â€ He pointed his fork towards my arm, but I guessed he meant more than that.

â€œA lot better, thanks.â€ I rolled my shoulder experimentally. I edged a little closer, lowering my voice. â€œListen, last night, Tâ€™Pol and I â€¦ we talked. Really talked, about â€¦ important stuff. I guess itâ€™s the first time weâ€™ve ever done that.â€ He stared at me, and I couldnâ€™t tell what he was thinking, so I continued on, â€œAnd â€¦ I guess you and me should talk too.â€

He folded his napkin and pushed his plate away, his expression still shuttered. â€œI suppose we should. But not here.â€

â€œNo,â€ I agreed. â€œTonight? My quarters?â€

He gave a brief nod, and then stood up. â€œIâ€™m due on the bridge in a few minutes.â€ He reached out as if to place his hand on my shoulder, but aborted the move. I guessed he remembered my injury just in time.

â€œIâ€™ll see you later, Malcolm.â€

Another nod, and he was gone.

I finished my sandwich, still debating with myself how much I should tell Malcolm about Tâ€™Polâ€™s revelations, and how much I should leave out. I guessed I had until tonight to figure it out. When I was done I left the mess hall, intending to head to gym for the physical therapy Phlox had recommended for my shoulder.

â€œCommander, may I speak with you privately?â€ I stopped and turned at the sound of Tâ€™Polâ€™s voice.

â€œSure.â€

I followed her to her quarters. â€œI have received a message from Vulcan. Tâ€™Pau has consulted the elders on Mount Seleya, and she believes there is a way of severing the psychic bond. There is a â€¦ ritual, similar to the one which removed Surakâ€™s katra from Captain Archerâ€™s mind. She believes, as do I, that it should be performed as soon as possible.â€

I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. â€œNo argument there.â€

â€œI have asked Captain Archer to grant us both a leave of absence. In the light of recent events, he was happy to do so.â€ I nodded. Jon had said as much to me himself. â€œAmbassador Soval has agreed to transport us to Vulcan. We leave in thirty minutes.â€

â€œWhat? Wait!â€ I protested. â€œIâ€™ve gotta â€¦ talk to my family. I was planning to visit them tomorrow. And â€¦â€

â€œThe Ambassadorâ€™s ship is capable of warp seven. He will be able to take us to Vulcan much more rapidly than a transport vessel, but he must leave immediately now that the treaty has been signed. He will not wait for us.â€

â€œOkay,â€ I said. â€œOkay, thirty minutes. Iâ€™ll be there.â€ A warp seven ship would shave weeks off our journey. It was too good a deal to pass up.

Back in my own quarters, I shoved some clothes into my kitbag and left a short message for my parents. Enterprise would be in space dock for several weeks, so I hoped there would be time to see them when I got back. And then there was Malcolm. He was on duty on the bridge, so there was no way I would be able to talk to him in private and explain what was happening. I dithered for a few minutes before deciding to leave a voice message for him too. I kept it simple, telling him Iâ€™d gone to Vulcan with Tâ€™Pol, and weâ€™d talk when I got back. There was just way too much going on to explain it all in a message. I really wished I could have said goodbye to him in person, but from everything heâ€™d said last night, I figured heâ€™d understand.

And then it was time to go. I found Tâ€™Pol already waiting for me at the docking port, and together we made our way to Sovalâ€™s ship.

~~~

The three week journey to Vulcan was pretty lonely. Tâ€™Pol spent most of her time meditating, and the rest of the crew were coldly courteous, but I could tell they didnâ€™t really want anything to do with their Human passenger. I guessed this must have been how Tâ€™Pol felt her first few months on Enterprise. It made me glad weâ€™d been able to put the hostility behind us and reach an understanding.

Ironically, the one person who seemed to recognise my need for some almost-Human contact was Soval himself. I liked to think weâ€™d reached a kind of understanding on our last mission to Vulcan, when heâ€™d confessed to a grudging affection for Humans, and as our journey progressed I found myself sharing a meal with him pretty much every other day.

â€œWe Vulcans tend to be â€¦ solitary beings,â€ he said on our last evening before entering orbit. He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his tea. Mint, I noticed. â€œWe are usually content to be in our own company. Iâ€™ve observed however that you Humans are different. You seem to need the company of others.â€

â€œSome of us do,â€ I confirmed. â€œSometimes. But some of us do like to be alone.â€ I thought about Malcolm. Heâ€™d always valued his solitude.

â€œI regret that you have not had more â€¦ companionship on this journey.â€

â€œTâ€™Polâ€™s got her reasons for keeping to herself, and your crewâ€™s been kinda busy. Besides, Iâ€™ve been able to look around the ship, learn a few things.â€

His expression changed almost imperceptibly. â€œHave you enjoyed your visits to our engine room?â€

I smiled. â€œYes, Ambassador, I have. Very much.â€ And it wasnâ€™t as if anyone had tried to stop me nosing around.

â€œAnd exactly how much of our language do you understand?â€

I felt my blush reach the tips of my ears. â€œQuite a bit,â€ I confessed. Iâ€™d picked up a fair bit just from spending so much time around Tâ€™Pol, but the weeks on the ship had been more like an immersion course. â€œLook, Iâ€™m sorry if Iâ€™ve crossed a line â€¦â€

The lines around his eyes crinkled just a little bit more, and I recognised the Vulcan version of a smile. â€œDonâ€™t worry, Commander. Our engine specifications are no longer classified - at least, not to our allies.â€

I breathed a sigh of relief, and decided to push my luck. â€œI donâ€™t suppose youâ€™d let me have a look at the specs for your shield generators?â€

â€œAh. Unfortunately those specifications are still classified.â€

â€œI thought they might be.â€ Pity. They would have made a nice little gift for Malcolm when I got home.

There was so much more I wanted to ask this man. I knew he was a melder - a member of a group who had previously been ostracised in Vulcan society. I wasnâ€™t too clear on how mind melds worked, but I wondered if the process was related to the kind of telepathic bond I shared with Tâ€™Pol. Was Soval married? Did he share this kind of bond with anyone? Did he understand it any better than Tâ€™Pol did? But everything Iâ€™d learned about Vulcans told me that these kinds of questions would be seen as â€¦ impertinent, coming from a Human. Even one who was a friend. And besides, given Tâ€™Polâ€™s motherâ€™s reaction, I was reluctant to reveal the fact that weâ€™d had a sexual relationship to another Vulcan.

~~~

I didnâ€™t remember much about the ritual. Only that it took place on Mount Seleya, at dawn on the day after we arrived on Vulcan. We knelt in the sanctuary, while the Vulcan elder placed one hand on my bowed head, and the other on Tâ€™Polâ€™s. He began to murmur some kind of incantation, and I felt a sense of serenity settle over me. I could feel that heâ€™d entered our minds, but there was no sense of invasion, and no actual communication beyond the chanting in what I now understood was the ancient tongue. We knelt there for what felt like hours while the sun rose higher in the russet sky, until finally I felt something like a soundless snap, and a moment of intense pain. I was aware of beginning to fall, but the world whited out before I hit the ground.

It was dark when I woke. I was lying on a pallet in a room lit by a pair of huge candles, and I had a monster of a headache.

â€œTâ€™Pol?â€ I croaked, pushing myself up. My throat was dry as a desert wind, and I realised I couldnâ€™t feel Tâ€™Pol in my mind any more. There was a â€¦ flatness when I thought of her, as if her essence had been removed, leaving only memory. I guessed I would have to get used to that.

â€œShe is nearby, resting, as thee must rest,â€ said a heavily-accented voice. Gnarled but gentle hands urged me to lie back against the pillows, and since I felt about as strong as a day-old kitten, I didnâ€™t resist. As I settled back I looked up into the face of an old - a very old - Vulcan woman. She brought a cup to my lips, and the cold water soothed my throat. I shivered a little, although the room was still warm, and she tucked the bedcovers a little closer around me. When she was done she sat back on her heels. â€œWhat is thy wish?â€

I glanced around me, at the walls hewn out of the red stone of the mountain, at the heavy brocaded wall-hangings, at the candles, and at my strange, alien nurse. Everything was wrong here. Even the air tasted â€¦ alien.

â€œI want to go home,â€ I heard myself say.

The following day, I boarded a transport ship bound for Earth. I was alone - Tâ€™Pol had decided to stay with her own people for a while, and I couldnâ€™t blame her for that.

It took me most of the journey home to recover. The weird vegetarian food and the oppressive dry heat of the Vulcan ship seemed to sap every ounce of strength I regained. The Vulcans mostly left me alone, and this time I was glad of it. All I wanted was to get home again and see my folks, my friends, and my Malcolm. A couple of times a day I sat down to record a message to him. I had so much I wanted to say, but somehow all I ever managed to record was, â€œI love you, and I miss you.â€ I deleted them all. He knew that already.

Finally we reached Earth, and Enterprise. I was home. The cooler air and feel of the deck under my feet energised me, and I practically ran to my quarters. I checked the duty roster, but Malcolmâ€™s name didnâ€™t appear, so I guessed this wasnâ€™t his shift. I was hungry for some real, Human food after more than six weeks of existing on roots and pulses, so I decided to swing by Malcolmâ€™s quarters on my way to the mess hall.

There was no answer at his door. I frowned. I was reluctant to contact him via the comm since this wasnâ€™t strictly shipâ€™s business. He could be in the gym or working on one of his pet projects in the armoury. Maybe heâ€™d even taken shore leave. If I couldnâ€™t find him after lunch, Iâ€™d use the comm.

I strolled into the mess hall, heading for the serving hatches, but someone immediately came up behind me and grabbed my arm. Over my shoulder I caught a glimpse of Jon as he propelled me bodily into his private dining room.

â€œHey!â€ I protested, rubbing my elbow. Jonâ€™s grip had been really rough.

â€œJust what the hell do you think youâ€™re playing at, Trip?â€ Jon said, glaring at me from under hooded eyes. I knew that look - the flaring nostrils and grinding teeth. I just didnâ€™t know what he was so steamed up about.

â€œWhat do you mean?â€ I said. â€œWhatâ€™s happened?â€

â€œWhatâ€™s happened?â€ he echoed. â€œYou know exactly whatâ€™s happened, Trip. Iâ€™m just mystified as to why you didnâ€™t at least clue me in.â€

I was mystified too. â€œClue you in about what?â€

â€œDid you think breaking up with Malcolm wouldnâ€™t have consequences?â€ he spat.

And my blood ran cold. â€œBreaking up? We didnâ€™t â€¦â€

â€œYou told me this relationship was serious. I assume he thought it was serious. But then the next thing we know, youâ€™re swanning off to Vulcan with Tâ€™Pol, and Iâ€™ve got Malcolm in my office saying he canâ€™t work with you any longer â€¦â€

Something about this didnâ€™t add up. I mean, Malcolm had loosened up a lot in the last four years, but I still couldnâ€™t see him running to Jon and crying on his shoulder. â€œWhy the hell was he talking to you about it?â€ I asked, suspicious. Jon mustâ€™ve gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick.

â€œBecause heâ€™s resigned, Trip!â€ Jon exploded.

â€œWhat?â€ I gasped, feeling suddenly light-headed. I sank down into one of the chairs.

â€œI havenâ€™t transmitted it to Starfleet yet. I managed to talk him into taking a leave of absence first, to think it over. But I demanded an explanation, and he said, and I quote, he â€˜could not continue to work with you, having compromised himself so seriouslyâ€™.â€

â€œBut â€¦ we didnâ€™t break up!â€ I protested. â€œI donâ€™t know where he got that idea.â€

â€œDonâ€™t you?â€ Jon glared.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly finding it very uncomfortable. It was true, I hadnâ€™t explained anything to Malcolm before Iâ€™d left for Vulcan. There just hadnâ€™t been time to get my thoughts together before weâ€™d had to leave. But Malcolm wasnâ€™t stupid. Heâ€™d worked things out for himself, and in the absence of the facts, and jumped to the wrong conclusion. I groaned and thumped my forehead on the table as I realised how my behaviour over the last few weeks - my fear and uncertainty about the telepathic bond with Tâ€™Pol - must have looked from Malcolmâ€™s perspective.

â€œYouâ€™ve gotta believe me, Jon,â€ I pleaded, raising my head to look up at him. â€œItâ€™s not how it looks with me and Tâ€™Pol. It was just â€¦ unfinished business, is all. I made a mistake. I shouldâ€™ve told Malcolm everything, but I was afraid he would â€¦â€ I trailed off, unable to articulate the thought. â€œBut I never meant to hurt him, Jon. And I never meant to break up with him. I â€¦ I love him. Youâ€™ve gotta help me fix this.â€

Jonâ€™s expression softened, just a little. â€œI believe you, Trip.â€ I breathed an audible sigh of relief. â€œYouâ€™re not a bad person. A little thoughtless, maybe, but given what youâ€™ve been through these couple of months â€¦â€ He sighed. â€œBut it isnâ€™t me you need to convince.â€

â€œNo,â€ I said ruefully. Jon didnâ€™t know the half of it. â€œYou said Malcolm took a leave of absence. Dâ€™you know where he went?â€

Jon shook his head. â€œHe didnâ€™t tell me. Just that he was heading to the surface.â€

I sighed. â€œThen I guess Iâ€™d better try and track him down.â€

~~~

Tracking down Malcolm was more difficult than Iâ€™d imagined. First I tried his communicator, only to discover heâ€™d left it behind in his quarters. I found it, along with his uniform and rank insignia, all in a sad little bundle on his bed. All his personal belongings were gone. Clearly, he didnâ€™t intend to come back to the ship.

Next, I tried the officersâ€™ mess at Starfleet, but he hadnâ€™t been near there. Heâ€™d taken a shuttlepod down to the surface along with a bunch of other people, and then just â€¦ vanished. I tried Mark Latrelle and some of his old colleagues at the weapons research division, but no-one had heard from him. I even looked up Ruby, the barmaid at the 602 Club, but he hadnâ€™t been in. Wherever he was, I guessed it wasnâ€™t San Francisco.

Which left the rest of the planet - a really big place to search for a guy who was good at blending in and didnâ€™t want to be found. I didnâ€™t want to think about the possibility that he might have left Earth altogether and gone to one of the lunar colonies, or even Mars. He had more than two monthsâ€™ head start. He could be just about anywhere by now.

I knew he wasnâ€™t real close to his parents, but I contacted his mom and dad in any case. Captain Stuart Reed, formerly of His Majestyâ€™s Royal Navy, was as taciturn and unhelpful as Malcolm had always described him, but eventually I managed to prise out of him that Malcolm hadnâ€™t been in touch. I wished I had contact details for his Aunt Sherry or some of his other relatives that heâ€™d seemed a little closer to, but heâ€™d even deleted his personal database before he left. Nothing if not thorough, my Mal.

But not my Mal any more, I reminded myself. All through my own stupidity. I closed my eyes and scrubbed my hand across my face. Why hadnâ€™t I just told him what had happened with Tâ€™Pol? He wasnâ€™t the jealous type. He would have handled it - we would have handled it, together. I remembered how great heâ€™d been after Lizzie died, how heâ€™d come with me to the gash in the landscape where our home had been, how heâ€™d offered me friendship even when I was lashing out at him. And how, a year later, heâ€™d persuaded me to face my grief again, to mend my family. Had he loved me even then?

And suddenly I remembered how that trip had begun - with a visit to Malcolmâ€™s sisterâ€™s place. I couldnâ€™t help the smile that pulled at my lips as I remembered pillow-fights and cuddling in that tiny spare bedroom, and the different side Iâ€™d seen to Malcolm when he was with Maddy. Maybe thatâ€™s when I really began to love him.

Maddy! If he was going to contact anyone, surely it would be his sister?

I did a search for â€˜Madeline Reedâ€™ in London, and found about a dozen. I set about calling each of them. One was a sweet old lady who wanted to chat and asked me â€™round for tea and cake even though she wasnâ€˜t the person I was looking for. Another was a teenager who spoke some strange version of English I could barely understand. Each Madeline Reed I called turned out to be someone other than Malcolmâ€™s sister. Either she wasnâ€™t listed, sheâ€™d moved away, or she didnâ€™t go by that name any more. But Malcolm hadnâ€™t mentioned anything about her getting married or moving out of the city â€¦

I knew where she lived. Kind of. On one of the main roads, opposite a park. But according to the map, there were at least a dozen parks in central London. Which one was it? I tried to remember the name of the road. Something to do with water - a river? Or had there been a river running through the park? There was a monument in it, I remembered that much. A great big gaudy gold thing, built to commemorate one of their kings or something. I pulled up a tourist guide to London and flicked through the pictures until I found it. The Albert Memorial in Hyde Park. And on the other side of the park was Bayswater Road. That was it.

Could I really camp out on her doorstep until she came home?

You bet I could.

~~~

I thought I remembered which building she lived in, but it turned out there were several identical apartment blocks on the road, so I was reduced to strolling back and forth along the street, hoping Iâ€™d see her going in or coming out. It was a long shot, I knew, and hardly the most sophisticated method of surveillance. No doubt Malcolm could have thought of something a hundred times better. Some secret agent Iâ€™d make.

After a couple of hours people were beginning to give me funny looks, but finally I caught a lucky break.

â€œCan I help you, young man?â€ I glanced around, but didnâ€™t immediately see where the sharp little voice had come from until I felt a tug on my sleeve and glanced down.

She looked about a hundred years old, and barely came up to my elbow. She wore a baggy tweed coat fastened up to her neck and a felt hat with an enormous feather in it. It threatened to tickle my nose every time she moved her head. I decided to crank up the old Southern charm - it usually went down well with maiden aunts.

I turned to face her and bowed slightly. â€œWhy, yes, maâ€™am,â€ I said, allowing my accent to thicken. â€œI really hope you can. Iâ€™m looking for a young lady by the name of Madeline Reed. I know she lives hereabouts, but for the life of me I canâ€™t remember which block is hers. I wonder if you could direct me to her residence?â€

She looked me over, craning her neck so that she could see my face. I gave her my best guileless grin. â€œAnd you are?â€ she said, eyeing me suspiciously.

â€œCommander Charles Tucker the Third,â€ I said, adding, â€œof the Starship Enterprise,â€ for good measure. I hoped she wasnâ€™t one of those anti-exploration nuts. â€œIâ€™m a friend of Miss Reedâ€™s brother.â€ At least, I hoped I still was.

My diminutive companion harrumphed, taking one more look at my jeans and battered flying jacket. She didnâ€™t look impressed. â€œThat block over there,â€ she said, pointing with her cane to the building on the corner. â€œFlat twelve. Now stop hanging around and making the place look untidy.â€

â€œThank you, maâ€™am,â€ I said sincerely as relief flooded through me. She just narrowed her eyes at me again before moving off down the street.

I hurried towards the building and wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans before I pressed the intercom for flat twelve. I wondered if Maddy would be home.

â€œHello?â€ A feminine voice with an accent just like Malcolmâ€™s came through the speaker. I felt an unexpected stab of pain in my heart, and I realised I had no idea what I wanted to say to her. And what if Malcolm was there? What if heâ€™d already told her his version of the story?

â€œEr â€¦ Miss Reed?â€ I said, going with formality as I looked up into the tiny video camera above the intercom. â€œYou might not remember me, but â€¦â€

â€œTrip!â€ she said, and I breathed a sigh of relief that she sounded pleased to see me. â€œOf course I remember you! What are you doing here? Is Malcolm with you? Oh, come on up â€¦â€

I heard the latch click, and then the outer door swung open. I ran up the stairs two at a time until, on the third floor, I found number twelve. It wasnâ€™t difficult - Maddy was waiting for me in the doorway.

â€œTrip!â€ she greeted me with a hug. â€œThis is a surprise. Malcolm didnâ€™t say anything about your coming to visit this time â€¦â€

My heart soared as she dragged me into the living room. â€œYouâ€™ve heard from him then?â€ I said eagerly. â€œYou know where he is?â€

â€œWell, no, not exactly.â€ Her brows knit together in a frown. â€œHe sent me a brief message when Enterprise returned to Earth, of course. I assumed he would contact me again when he had shore leave - he usually does - but I havenâ€™t heard from him yet.â€

The bottom fell out of my world, and I sat down heavily on the sofa. Maddy had been my last hope of finding Malcolm, but if she didnâ€™t know where he was â€¦

â€œTrip, whatâ€™s happened?â€ she said, her voice full of concern - although whether it was for me or her brother, I couldnâ€™t tell. She came and sat down beside me and placed a comforting hand on my arm. I patted her hand gently. â€œWhatâ€™s wrong, Trip?â€ she said softly.

I sighed, surprised when it came out as more of a sob. â€œDid â€¦ did Malcolm tell you that he and I were â€¦ together?â€ I ventured.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she shook her head slowly. But then her expression softened into a warm smile. â€œNo, but I knew how he felt about you. It was obvious the last time you were here.â€

â€œOh,â€ I said, digesting that piece of news.

â€œBut he didnâ€™t think you would be interested.â€

â€œI wasnâ€™t. Or, I didnâ€™t think I was. But â€¦ stuff happened, and now â€¦â€ I took a deep breath. â€œI love him. I love him so much â€¦â€

â€œIâ€™m glad,â€ she said, squeezing my arm.

â€œYou donâ€™t understand,â€ I said, my voice catching. â€œI screwed up. I mean really, really screwed up. And now heâ€™s gone, resigned from Enterprise, from Starfleet, and Iâ€™ve gotta find him, gotta make things right, before itâ€™s too late.â€

She pulled me into a hug as my voice finally gave out, and we just sat there in silence for a while. Eventually I recovered enough to gaze down into her blue-grey eyes - so like Malcolmâ€™s.

â€œI think youâ€™d better start at the beginning,â€ she said firmly.

~~~

We talked long into the night, at first sitting around her small kitchen table, eating the simple pasta dish she made for us, and then later, curled up at either end of her sofa. I told her about Lizzie, and how Iâ€™d come to be bonded with Tâ€™Pol, and about Malcolm and a little about the baby. I told her exactly how stupid Iâ€™d been, how much Iâ€™d kept from Malcolm, and what Jon had told me about the way Malcolm had reacted.

â€œIâ€™ve gotta find him,â€ I said. â€œI donâ€™t know if heâ€™ll forgive me, but he deserves to know the truth. And I canâ€™t let him resign over this. Itâ€™s all my fault.â€

She frowned and chewed on her lip, considering. â€œYes,â€ she said eventually. â€œYes, it is, mostly. But it was a misunderstanding, and my brother, typically, extracted the worst case scenario from an uncertain situation, and mounted a pre-emptive strike.â€

I smiled fondly. â€œYeah, thatâ€™s my Mal. And now heâ€™ll be holed up somewhere, licking his wounds.â€

â€œI agree that the two of you need to talk,â€ she continued, â€œif only to clear the air between you. Youâ€™re right, Iâ€™d hate to see him leave Starfleet because of this. He loves serving on Enterprise. But even if he believes you, I canâ€™t guarantee heâ€™ll take you back. And if heâ€™s been sitting stewing over it for this long â€¦â€

â€œIâ€™ve gotta try,â€ I said. â€œBut how can I do that if I canâ€™t find him?â€

â€œThere is one place he might have gone,â€ she said. When she frowned she got the exact same little crinkle between her brows that Malcolm did. â€œGranny Reidâ€™s cottage.â€ At my blank look she elaborated. â€œOur great-grandmother lived most of her life in a small cottage in Perthshire, in Scotland. She died when Malcolm and I were teenagers, and she left the house jointly to the two of us. I havenâ€™t been there in years, but Malcolm sometimes used it as a bolt-hole when Dad was being particularly difficult, or just when he wanted to get away and think.â€

The more she told me about the cottage, the more it sounded like exactly the place Malcolm would be. â€œSo, how do we contact him?â€ I said eagerly, hope rising in my chest.

â€œWe donâ€™t,â€ she said. â€œItâ€™s his sanctuary. He deliberately doesnâ€™t keep any communications equipment there, so unless he took a personal communicator with him â€¦?â€

â€œHe didnâ€™t,â€ I said flatly.

â€œI thought not. No, the only way youâ€™ll find him is to go up there yourself.â€

~~~

I spent a sleepless night at Maddyâ€™s place, in the very same bed Iâ€™d shared with Malcolm the last time I was here. Iâ€™d woken up in his arms, and at the time Iâ€™d thought it was just a physical reaction to lying beside a warm body, but now I wondered if my subconscious had been trying to tell me something even back then.

In the morning, armed with the directions Maddy had given me, I took the fast rail link to Glasgow, and then caught a slower train further north to Perth. Finally I rented a car and drove out through Glen Almond towards Glen Quaich. The winter landscape was beautiful, the air clear, crisp and cold, and the grass and trees sparkled under a heavy frost that hadnâ€™t lifted even in the afternoon sun. But I couldnâ€™t take the time to enjoy the scenery as I drove out beyond the village of Achnafauld.

The sun was dipping towards the horizon by the time I found the turning into the gravelled drive that led up to the lochside and an ancient, austere-looking stone cottage with a faded blue door. It looked deserted, and my heart sank as I took in the grimy windows and the small, overgrown strip of garden. My feet crunched on the gravel as I got out of the car and stretched, shivering a little in the cold air. Had I come all this way for nothing?

And then I heard it, the rhythmic thud of an axe on wood. Someone was here.

I hurried round the side of the house, following the sound, and then I stopped short, my heart pounding as I saw him. He was splitting logs, his back and shoulders flexing easily under his grubby Aran sweater as he swung the axe overhead. But otherwise, I had to admit, he didnâ€™t look so great. Heâ€™d let his hair grow out a bit, and it hung in unruly curls over his forehead. Along his jaw, in profile, I could see a scraggy beard.

He spared a glance over his shoulder, gave me a look that said, â€˜oh, itâ€™s you,â€™ and then swung the axe again. I wondered if he wished he was aiming it at my head. He didnâ€™t seem all that surprised to see me, and for a moment I wondered if Maddy had managed to contact him somehow after all, and warned him I was on my way. But then I realised he must have heard me crunching around on the gravel long before I was aware of him.

â€œMal,â€ I said, approaching as he laid the axe down and began to gather up the wood. â€œMalcolm, Iâ€™m sorry.â€

He straightened up and glared at me, his steely grey eyes boring into my heart. â€œYou didnâ€™t bring her with you, then?â€ he said stiffly.

For a minute I was thrown. â€œMaddy? No â€¦â€

â€œTâ€™Pol,â€ he snapped. â€œI thought the two of you were inseparable these days.â€

I almost laughed out loud at the irony of that, given what Iâ€™d just gone through in order to separate myself from Tâ€™Pol.

â€œIt wasnâ€™t like that, Malcolm,â€ I said. â€œI was never with her, not in the way you think.â€ He gave a sceptical snort, but I ignored it and continued. â€œPlease Malcolm, I made a mistake, not talking to you about â€¦ everything â€¦ before I went to Vulcan. I made a whole lot of mistakes, but I never meant to hurt you. Iâ€™ll understand if you donâ€™t forgive me, if you donâ€™t wanna be with me any more, but please, at least let me explain.â€

He stared at me for a long time, his arms folded across his chest and his expression unreadable, while the gloom gathered around us. â€œI suppose youâ€™d best come in, then,â€ he said at last, before picking up the basket of logs and striding towards the back door of the house.

I had to duck my head as I stepped through the doorway into the shabby kitchen. The living space of the cottage seemed to consist of one big room, with a wood-burning stove in one corner, a table and chairs, and a threadbare sofa. I watched him as he placed a few logs in the stove.

â€œMalcolm â€¦â€ I began as he stood up and turned around to face me, but he held up a hand, and I stalled.

â€œNot tonight, Trip,â€ he said wearily, scrubbing a hand through his grimy hair. â€œYouâ€™re here. Weâ€™ll talk. Just â€¦ not tonight.â€

â€œOkay,â€ I conceded quietly.

â€œEggs, milk, bread,â€ he said, pointing vaguely towards the kitchen area. â€œNo coffee, just tea. Privy is outside. Blankets in the press.â€ He indicated a door I assumed was a closet. â€œYou can sleep on the couch.â€ And then he stalked away into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

I sat down at the table, my head in my hands. At least heâ€™d let me stay - that had to be a good sign. But if I couldnâ€™t get him to listen â€¦

I closed my eyes. There was only a door, a few centimetres of wood, between us. It wasnâ€™t even locked. And yet it might as well have been an impenetrable barrier. Even if I could get him to hear me out, how would I ever find the words? Words werenâ€™t my thing. Iâ€™d always been better with actions. A part of me wanted to burst through that door and just kiss Malcolm into submission, but deep down I knew that would be a mistake. And Iâ€™d made so many mistakes with Malcolm, I had a feeling I was on my very last chance. Maybe it just wasnâ€™t meant to be after all. Maybe it was like with Tâ€™Pol â€¦

But Malcolm â€¦. Malcolm was my friend, in a way that Tâ€™Pol had never been. Even in a way that Jon had never been. Heâ€™d trusted me with his heart, and Iâ€™d taken that precious gift and stomped all over it. Maybe it was time to just â€¦ trust him.

~~~

I woke the next morning stiff and sore, having spent the night huddled on a sofa that was at least thirty centimetres too short for comfort and seemed to be made out of concrete. Iâ€™d even tried moving onto the floor at one point, but that was made of concrete, and bloody freezing, as Mal might have said. But I woke to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen and the unmistakeable smell of scrambled eggs. Malcolm!

I raised my head and peered sleepily over the arm of the sofa. He was puttering around, paying me not the slightest bit of attention, although I was sure he must know I was awake. I noticed he looked a little tidier than he did yesterday. The same faded blue jeans hung off his slim hips, but his heavy-knit sweater was clean and his hair was damp and neatly combed. And heâ€™d shaved, I noticed when he turned to put some cutlery on the table.

â€œYou can wash and shave in my bathroom, if you like,â€ he said, still not looking at me.

â€œYeah, okay,â€ I said, sliding off the sofa and stretching out my back. His bedroom door was open, and I hastily retrieved my wash kit from my bag and ventured inside. There was a bed, of course, a small double, neatly made with what looked like a hand-knitted comforter on top. I wondered briefly if the same hand had knitted the sweaters Malcolm was currently so fond of. But what grabbed my attention immediately were the books. There must have been hundreds of them - most of them on shelves lining the walls, but some were stacked on the dresser or the floor. Iâ€™d never seen so many books in one place outside of a library before. Some were obviously very old, with leather or cloth-bound hard covers. Others were glossy paperbacks. A fair proportion of them had bright orange spines. I itched to touch them, to see what this incredible collection would tell me about the mysterious man I loved, but I settled for glancing at a few of the titles. Among the obligatory texts on naval history and weapons through the ages, I was surprised to find titles by Arthur C Clarke and Isaac Asimov. Maybe Iâ€™d tease him a little about that later. If I got the chance.

I made my way into the tiny bathroom - just a sink and a tub, so I guessed the other facilities really were outside. Iâ€™d need to use them in a minute. I washed quickly in tepid water and shaved, following Malcolmâ€™s example. When I came inside from using the primitive facility Malcolm had referred to as the privy, he indicated I should sit at the table, and then began to serve me scrambled eggs, toast and tea.

â€œMalcolm â€¦â€ I ventured when he had sat down and taken a bite of his own eggs.

He shook his head briefly. â€œEat first. Then weâ€™ll talk.â€

â€œâ€™Kay,â€ I said quietly.

I watched him as we ate. He seemed different somehow from the man Iâ€™d confronted last night. More confident. More relaxed. I hoped that was a good sign, like the clean clothes and the groomed appearance. I wondered how heâ€™d slept last night. Probably very well in that nice comfortable bed, I thought sullenly, but then I felt a little stab of guilt as I noticed the dark smudges under his eyes, his pinched features and sunken cheeks. I guessed he hadnâ€™t been sleeping too well for quite a while. My fault, again.

â€œOkay,â€ he said at last, once he had shoved the last morsel into his mouth and cleared away our plates. He leaned back in his chair, his body language deceptively open, but I could hear the tension in his voice as he spoke. â€œWhat did you want to say to me, Trip?â€

To be honest, I still wasnâ€™t sure. I sat forward, staring at my hands wrapped around my mug of cooling tea, rubbing my thumb back and forth across the chip in the rim as I gathered my thoughts. â€œI - I guess the most important thing is, I messed up,â€ I said at last. â€œAnd Iâ€™m sorry. And I love you.â€

He snorted. â€œFunny way you have of showing it.â€

I deserved that, but he sure as hell wasnâ€™t making this any easier for me. So I told him, the story coming out of me in fits and starts, much more of it, and much less coherently than Iâ€™d told it to Maddy, because now so much more was at stake. He listened in silence, just staring at me, but I saw his eyes narrow a little when I told him how Tâ€™Pol had used the trellium-D. I told him about the telepathic bond that that had somehow formed between me and Tâ€™Pol, and why Iâ€™d had to leave for Vulcan without telling him. And I told him how Iâ€™d felt when we found out about Elizabeth, and how Iâ€™d wanted us to have a family some day.

He just listened, not interrupting or questioning. I couldnâ€™t tell what he was thinking, whether he believed me or even cared any more. By the end of it Iâ€™d talked myself hoarse, with Malcolm just sitting there staring at me the whole time.

â€œWell,â€ he said at last, â€œthatâ€™s quite a story.â€ He sighed. â€œDid Tâ€™Pol come back with you?â€

I shook my head. â€œShe said she wanted to stay at the monastery for a while, to study kol â€¦ kol-something. Some kinda deep meditation.â€

â€œKohlinar,â€ he supplied.

â€œYeah. But I just wanted to come home - to you, Malcolm.â€

He stared at the floor for a few moments, biting his lip, one knee bouncing - the only sign that he wasnâ€™t perfectly calm. Then, suddenly, he got up from the table. â€œIâ€™m going for a walk,â€ he said, making for the door.

â€œIâ€™ll come,â€ I said, rising too.

â€œNo!â€ He stopped. â€œJust â€¦ wait here. Iâ€™ll be back.â€

So I sat on the concrete sofa and waited. At first I tried to read one of the books from the bedroom, but I ended up just staring into the fire; thinking, hoping.

It was a couple of hours later that I finally heard his feet crunch on the gravel outside, but I didnâ€™t stir even when I felt the cold draught of air as he opened the door. He dumped a bag of groceries on the table, and then ruffled my hair as he came round the sofa. I looked up in surprise as he flopped down beside me, shoulder to shoulder.

â€œWell, this is an almighty fuck-up,â€ he observed. He sounded almost cheerful.

â€œYeah,â€ I whispered, still staring into the fire. I didnâ€™t dare to look at him. I could feel him though, his warmth seeping through our clothing and into my body as he sat next to me, the length of his thigh pressed along mine. It felt intensely intimate, but I didnâ€™t dare move towards him.

He sighed heavily and let his head roll back to rest partly against my shoulder. â€œYou did hurt me, Trip,â€ he confessed softly. â€œAnd I felt â€¦ abandoned. Rejected. Betrayed.â€ Each calm, quiet word was like a knife in my heart, and that was somehow worse than the anger Iâ€™d expected, or yesterdayâ€™s frosty sarcasm.

â€œMalcolm â€¦â€ I whispered, my voice catching on the word. I could feel my eyes burning, and I scrubbed at them angrily with the heel of my hand. â€œAnd now?â€ I finally dared to ask. I looked up from the fire and into his cool grey eyes.

He turned his head and gently pressed his lips against my temple. I stared at him in surprise. He leaned in and kissed me again, lingering a little longer this time, brushing his lips down my cheek to the corner of my mouth. I relished the damp press of his lips against my skin, but I didnâ€™t dare move, didnâ€™t dare respond for fear that my touch, my advances would be unwelcome. I stayed still, holding my breath, as he brought his hand up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing along my lower lip.

â€œMalcolm â€¦?â€ I breathed, exhilarated, afraid.

But he just smiled sweetly at me as he leaned in and closed his lips over mine. I opened my mouth, allowing him access. Did this mean we were back together? That heâ€™d forgiven me already? Could it really be this easy? I felt him shift beside me and he broke away from my lips just long enough to rise up and straddle my hips.

â€œI donâ€™t understand,â€ I whispered.

â€œShh,â€ he soothed, placing a finger across my lips. â€œIâ€™m thinking, this wasnâ€™t entirely your fuck up,â€ he continued, his voice low and husky. â€œAnd maybe we both need to work a little harder on this â€¦ communication business. I knew something was going on with you and Tâ€™Pol, but I jumped to conclusions. I should have asked you what was wrong.â€

â€œDoes that mean youâ€™ve decided to forgive me?â€ I whispered.

He shrugged a little.

â€œWhy?â€

He gazed down at me solemnly. â€œBecause I love you, and I will continue to love you whether weâ€™re together or not. But loving you and not being with you has been â€¦ a miserable experience. I donâ€™t want to be miserable any more.â€

â€œI wonâ€™t keep things from you again, Malcolm. I promise.â€

His eyes narrowed a little, but I could se a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. â€œYouâ€™d better not.â€

He came down to kiss me again, and I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, enjoying his touch and the weight of him in my lap. I snaked my arms around his slender waist, my thumb caressing the exposed patch of skin just above the waistband of his jeans. I could tell heâ€™d lost weight in the weeks weâ€™d been apart, but he still had a wiry strength. I could feel it in the way his thighs gripped mine, the way he pinned me against the sofa. I leaned back, deliberately passive, letting him take control. Our position meant he was taller than me, and he used that to his advantage, sliding his hand under my chin and tilting my face up so that he could plunder my mouth. The kiss was slow and intense, his tongue probing and tasting. It felt like he was reaching into my heart, my soul.

At last he ended the kiss, nibbling a little at my lips as he drew back, his eyes burning intensely in the firelight and a characteristic little smirk on his lips. He slid out of my loose embrace and stood, reaching out a hand to me.

â€œCome to bed,â€ he commanded softly. I was powerless to refuse.

My heart pounding with anticipation, I took his hand, and he pulled me up to stand beside him. He led me into the bedroom and stopped beside the bed. Then he leaned in and kissed me again, lapping gently at my lips before plunging deeper as he slid his hands up under my sweater.

A soft grunt of pleasure escaped me as his fingers skittered across my nipples, and I could feel myself hardening in response to his touch. Slowly, wordlessly, we undressed each other, all the while exchanging deep, soulful kisses, and when we were both naked he laid me down on the bed.

And then he was on top of me, his mouth hot and urgent on mine, his skin sliding against me and our erections trapped together between our bodies as he pressed me down into the mattress. God, how I loved him like this: strong and assertive and ever so slightly dangerous, prepared to take what he wanted. I knew it was an illusion, that he would never even think of taking me by force, but having him dominate me like this was â€¦ thrilling.

He caught my hands and laced his fingers between mine, pinning my hands either side of my head as he kissed me hungrily. I felt a surge of pleasure in my groin as I responded eagerly, thrusting my tongue into his mouth as I parted my legs and raised my knees, cradling him between them. He felt so good against me that I couldnâ€™t help moaning a little into the kiss. A part of me longed to free my hands and tangle my fingers in his hair, but he held me fast, rubbing his body against mine, using it to touch me in the way his hands might have done, until I thought I couldnâ€™t take any more.

At last he released my hands and raised his head to gaze down at me. I immediately slid my palms all the way down his back, watching him close his eyes and shiver a little when I squeezed his butt.

â€œI want you, Trip,â€ he breathed, bending down to suckle at my neck. My cock jumped, both at his words and the sensation.

I buried my nose in his hair, breathing his scent. â€œTake me, Malcolm,â€ I whispered.

â€œAre you sure?â€ he murmured, his breath tickling my skin as he licked along my collarbone.

â€œYes.â€ I spread my legs wider, opening myself to him. â€œPlease.â€

He came back to my lips, kissing me briefly before moving down to suck one of my nipples into his mouth. I felt an answering jolt in my cock and shifted under him, bucking my hips a little so that I could rub my cock against his stomach.

â€œImpatient, arenâ€™t we?â€ he chuckled softly as he reached for something on the nightstand. Lubricant of some kind, I realised. Oh god, it was really going to happen. Iâ€™d asked him to take me, but what would it feel like to have him inside me? I was breathless with desire and anticipation, and not a little fear. I wanted to give him this, my submission, as proof of my love for him, but what if I couldnâ€™t? What would it say about us if I couldnâ€™t give him this one thing?

But then he began to lick and kiss his way down over my chest and abdomen, until all coherent thought fled as his mouth engulfed my cock. I gripped his shoulder, moaning his name, and it took every vestige of my shattered willpower not to lift my hips and thrust into his mouth, but he was exploring elsewhere too: stroking between my thighs and lifting and cradling my balls. And then I gasped as he slid two slippery fingers into my cleft and touched me in a way that no-one had ever done before.

I gripped the bedcovers, breathing hard, as he found my entrance with one fingertip and circled it, just touching, spreading the slippery fluid and exerting a gentle pressure, until at last I felt him nudge inside.

â€œOh!â€ I gasped. It felt â€¦ strange. Different. But â€¦ surprisingly good.

Malcolm released my cock and smiled down at me. â€œRelax, Trip,â€ he soothed. â€œYou only have to say the word and weâ€™ll stop.â€

Stop? Oh god, he was threatening to stop now? Iâ€™d never imagined that my asshole could be a source of pleasure, but the way he was touching me, just making the tiniest movements in and out, just felt incredible. I was spread out for him, open and ready and utterly his. And it didnâ€™t hurt one bit.

I grasped his other hand. â€œI donâ€™t want to stop, Mal. Please, donâ€™t stop.â€

He kissed my knuckles as he slid his finger further in and touched â€¦ something â€¦ somewhere â€¦ that made me give a formless cry and arch up off the bed as a wave of pure pleasure washed through me.

â€œYou like that, hm?â€ he murmured, doing it again.

â€œFuck, thatâ€™s amazing! Donâ€™t stop!â€

He chuckled and bent down to kiss the tip of my cock again, the vibration of his laughter only adding to my pleasure. â€œIâ€™ll have to if weâ€™re going to go any further. Do you want to go further, Trip?â€

â€œYeah,â€ I breathed. I gasped at the sensation as he slipped his finger out of me and moved to kneel between my legs. He arranged us so that my right leg was over his shoulder and my left was hooked around his waist. I watched, admiring the view, as he poured some of the lightly scented oil into his palm and applied it to his cock, closing his eyes and he stroked himself. He was beautiful: dark hair against pale skin, and lean planes of muscle on a slim, athletic frame. I reached out to grasp his fingers, and then I felt it, the smooth, blunt end of his cock nuzzling against my opening.

â€œRelax, love,â€ he urged, turning his head so that he could kiss the inside of my thigh, just above my knee. His touch was light, reassuring, as he stroked my belly, my thighs, my cock, my balls, caressing my body as he licked and kissed and nuzzled â€¦

At last he gazed down at me, his eyes dark with desire. â€œIâ€™m inside you,â€ he murmured against my skin. And he was; I could feel him. His cock filled me and his balls rested against my ass, and it felt â€¦ right, somehow. Then he moved, and suddenly I was on fire. My asshole burned with a sensation just this side of pain, and sweat beaded on my skin as I felt the deep push-pull of him inside me. I couldnâ€™t take my eyes off him. He smiled down at me from under half-closed eyelids. I reached out a hand to him, and he caught it and then guided it down to my own neglected cock. We stroked together, in counterpoint with his thrusts, our hands slick with lube and precum. The double sensation was almost too much, and then his cock nudged against that special place inside me, and someone somewhere was moaning, babbling, gasping out Malcolmâ€™s name over and over.

He thrust harder and faster, pounding into me, and I found myself pushing back against him just as hard. My orgasm seemed to come crawling up from my toes, building into an unstoppable tidal wave that engulfed my whole body. Then my balls tightened almost painfully, and I cried out as hot streaks of come flowed over my belly.

â€œTrip!â€ Malcolm gasped as my body convulsed around the hard shaft inside it. And as I collapsed back on the bed, I watched him lose control; his powerful thrusts sending aftershocks of pleasure through me as he spent himself inside my body. Finally he slid his cock out of my ass and came down on top of me, his weight on his elbows as he gave me a wet, breathless kiss.

At last he made to move off me, but I held on to him, only letting him shift far enough to lie against my side. He slid his thigh in between mine and rested his damp forehead against my cheek, and made contented little noises in his throat as he snuggled into me. I ran my palms over his warm skin until one hand came to rest on his butt, my fingers finding their way into the cleft where he straddled my thigh.

â€œMmm,â€ he murmured, shifting a little to push his ass back into my hand.

â€œYou like me touching you there?â€ I breathed.

â€œMm, very much,â€ he purred.

I chuckled softly. â€œAnd I thought I was gonna be the girl in this relationship.â€

He raised himself up on one elbow and gazed down at me. â€œDid you think that just because I fucked you once, it was going to be that way for ever more?â€

â€œUm â€¦ yeah, I guess.â€

He sighed. â€œWeâ€™re men, Trip. We both have penises. And neither one of us remotely resembles a â€˜girlâ€™. I enjoy being fucked just as much as I enjoy doing the fucking.â€ He frowned, suddenly concerned. â€œYou did enjoy what we did, didnâ€™t you?â€

â€œYeah,â€ I assured him. â€œI just â€¦ didnâ€™t think you were the kinda guy whoâ€™d want someone to fuck you.â€

He smiled down at me. â€œWell, I do. Very much. If you want to, that is.â€ He leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. â€œNothing is compulsory, Trip,â€ he murmured. â€œSex doesnâ€™t have to be about penetration. The most important thing is that we both enjoy whatever we end up doing together.â€

I bit my lip, not sure that my untutored fumblings would ever give him anything approaching the pleasure heâ€™d just given me. I was about to say so when a loud gastric gurgling sound made me pause. â€œWas that you?â€ I asked. He blushed a fetching shade of pink, and I remembered the groceries that still lay on the kitchen table. â€œI guess we missed lunch.â€

He shrugged, smiling ruefully. â€œWell, we really should clean up anyway, or weâ€™ll end up permanently glued together,â€ he said, kissing me briefly and then sliding out of the bed.

I leered at him as I followed. â€œYâ€™know, I kinda like the sound of that.â€

â€œYes, but it could be a little awkward on away missions,â€ he observed dryly.

I suddenly remembered the other part of my mission here - to prevent him resigning from Starfleet. â€œDoes that mean youâ€™ll come back?â€ I asked softly. â€œTo Enterprise?â€

â€œYes,â€ he smiled. â€œYes, it does.â€

As he made for the bathroom I caught his hand. â€œMal?â€

â€œYes?â€

â€œI kinda like the sound of â€˜foreverâ€™ too.â€

His eyes softened as he gazed at me. â€œSo do I, Trip,â€ he said. â€œSo do I.â€

~~~

The turbolift doors slid open, and I grinned as I stepped out onto the bridge. I was home, where I belonged. Malcolm smiled and winked at me from his tactical station, and I bit my lip as my heart leapt at such an unusual gesture of affection. Weâ€™d returned to Enterprise two days ago, after spending a few days alone at the cottage, followed by brief visits with my parents and Malcolmâ€™s sister. I glanced around the bridge, at the other familiar faces; Travis at the helm, and Hoshi on communications. Phlox had happily signed on for another tour as well, and was even how finding space in sickbay for more strange creatures.

â€œAre we ready to go, Trip?â€ Jon said as he came out of his ready room.

â€œAll set, Capâ€™n,â€ I replied. â€œEngineâ€™s purring like a kitten.â€

Jon grinned in response. There was only one face missing from our reunited family, I thought as I slid in behind the science station and sat down.

â€œTravis, lay in a course,â€ Jon said, stepping down into the command well. â€œBest speed to Vulcan. Thereâ€™s someone we need to pick up.â€

 

~end of part 8~


End file.
